The Awakening
by Writer's Melody
Summary: A prodigy, Dr. Quinzel is one of the youngest staff members at Arkham. However, when Bruce Wayne comes to her for outpatient counseling and she is assigned to The Joker, she finds life becoming more complicated than she could ever have imagined...
1. Chapter 1

Tap. Tap tap. Tap tap tap. Tap tap tap tap.

The Joker was bored and frustrated. The staff at Arkham had done their utmost to make sure that he'd stay contained. Everything in his room was bolted down, there were cameras monitoring his every movement, and most frustrating of all, he had had no human contact for two weeks. The tray bearing his food was slipped through a slot in the bottom of the door and picked up later. All he ever saw of the person bringing sustenance was shadows.

He smiled, a real smile, his mouth turning upwards. They were scared, as they should be. Though what did they expect him to do? Even he had to admit that his hands were tied- figuratively at least- thanks to Batman. It was small consolation he'd become Gotham's Most Wanted.

The drumming of his fingers stopped. Was that- footsteps? He tilted his head and rose from his chair to place his ear to the door, dark eyes gleaming. Yes. Someone was coming. It wasn't lunchtime yet, which meant-

There was the sound of latches and locks being undone. The door opened and he quickly sat down. The Joker was fairly sure that good behavior wouldn't get _him_ released any earlier but he planned to try. He had passed the time rather pleasantly, trying to figure out how he would get out… for a day. None of his schemes would work, as they called for certain ingredients and of course a human element.

Someone entered. It was a woman; he took her measure silently. She was very petite and curvaceous. Her chestnut hair was pulled back in a simple ponytail. There was no make-up on her lovely face, no jewelry adorning her. The features of her face were elegant and she carried herself with an unconscious grace and confidence. It was her amber eyes, flecked with black, that were her best feature.

She was beautiful, even though she had done nothing to accentuate that beauty. Silently, she moved across the cell to sit on the edge of her bed. He hadn't heard the others depart, which meant the guards were standing right outside the door. Not that he planned on doing anything to the first face he'd seen in what felt like forever. Not yet.

"I am Dr. Harleen Quinzel but feel free to call me whatever is most comfortable for you," she said. "I have been assigned to your case-"

"My case?" he asked.

"Yes, your arraignment is in a month and I am going to be making sure you are competent and whether or not you can file an insanity plea," she said. Her voice was as lovely as the rest of her, low and husky, rich and velvety.

"And what do you think?" he asked. One corner of her mouth tipped upwards.

"I thought I was the one who was supposed to be asking the questions. But I will answer yours." There was a brief pause as her eyes clouded over in thought. A moment later they cleared. "Only a powerful and organized mind could have done what you did. Madness takes many forms, though. I would know." Once again she smiled. "Whether or not yours is the… acceptable brand remains to be seen."

"So you've already made up your mind?" he pressed.

"We are all a little mad-" She paused. "Is there something else I can call you besides Joker?" He chuckled, the sound echoing through the room.

"Jay," he said. Harleen nodded. "What makes you think I'm going to tell you anything?" he asked, his voice full of challenge and curiosity. Silence fell and she smiled. Even to him there was something chilling about it. Her eyes seemed to grow darker as she leaned forward.

"You do. I'm willing to listen to you and I am the one person who will play your advocate. Here at least. You want out- understandably so- and one way or another you're going to regain your freedom. In order to do that, you're going to have to cooperate to some extent."

They stared at each other. She was right. But what was he supposed to tell her? Certainly not the truth. Harleen rose, heading towards the door and something like disappointment flooded him. "You're leaving?" he said.

"Yes. I'll be back when you're ready. Think about what I've said. It was a pleasure to meet you," she said. She rapped on the door and it was opened for her. Casting one last look over her shoulder, she stepped through the doorway and out of his sight. It was shut and relocked. For several moments, he just stared at the door, an unreadable expression on his face. Then he smiled.

"The pleasure, I fear, will be entirely mine, Harley."


	2. Chapter 2

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" the man shrieked. Harleen looked up from the papers on her desk with a confused expression. "The Joker's arraignment is in TWO WEEKS and you've only seen him ONCE!" The woman tilted her head as she stared at the red-faced man. It looked like his head was about to explode or fly off. She resisted the urge to giggle at the sight of her very harried superior.

She stared at him silently. It was true, she hadn't seen him since that day two weeks ago. She'd meant what she said about not going back until he was ready. Any minute she expected the guard to come tell her he was wanting to see her… "Dr. Arkham, The Joker is my patient. My methods are unusual, as you know, but they are successful. Please let me do my job," she said. Her voice was calm and rational.

It did the trick. Harleen's eyes were an ochre color and she had to resist the urge to smile triumphantly as he sighed dejectedly. "I really hope you know what you're doing."

"I do," she declared. "I know how important this is. I won't let Gotham down." Her eyes seemed to grow even darker for a moment. The man nodded and left, shutting the door behind him. Harleen sighed and settled back.

Honestly, wouldn't they ever let her do her job? Either they really didn't understand her or they did and they were scared. It didn't matter. Glancing back down at the papers, she was about to resume her reading when the phone rang.

"Dr. Quinzel, how can I help you?" she asked.

"Hey, doll."

"Uncle Chris, you know how much I hate nicknames," she said. Despite that, she was glad to hear his voice. He always had been her favorite uncle.

"It's good to hear from you too," he chuckled. "Much as I'd love to chat, I have a favor to ask. My friend, Alfred- you remember him- is worried about Bruce. Rachel's death hit him hard. Would you be willing to-"

"- sit down with him? Yes," she declared. It was a chance she'd only dreamed of. Talking to Bruce Wayne, actually getting inside the eccentric man's head… How could she possibly refuse? Besides, it would be good for him.

"Great! I'll tell him to give you a call then." A man appeared in the door way. Harleen looked up.

"I look forward to it. I've got to go. Thanks for the call." With that, she hung up, watching the approaching guard. She already knew what he was going to say. Rising, she gathered her clipboard and The Joker's file.

"The Joker wants to see you." Harleen merely smiled to herself as she followed him out of her office and through the corridors to The Joker's cell. The door was opened and she stepped inside.

He stared at her as she took her seat on the edge of the bed. She smiled at him, unable to suppress her triumph. "Waste of time wasn't it, Doc? Making me wait," The Joker said.

"Not really," she said. "Time is something both of us have plenty of." He chuckled for a moment, dark eyes gleaming. Without his make-up, she could really get a good look at his features. Aside from the scars, his features were- almost pleasant. Absently she wondered what he looked like under the clothes.

Not something a doctor should be wondering about her patient. Blinking, she forced her train of thought back onto a more appropriate track. "What's so amusing?"

"You implied we have something in common," he said.

"No, you inferred it. Now, shall we?"

"What do you want, Doc? Want to show me blots of ink on flashcards? Want me to tell you the first words that pop into my mind? Want to know how I got my scars?" Silence fell. _This is not going to be easy at all_, she realized. Of course she'd never expected it to be.

"No. I don't think you'd tell me the truth," she said frankly.

"If you're good I will." He grinned at her and chuckled again. Harleen's eyes gleamed. Now they were getting somewhere!

"Define 'good,'" she prompted, subtly getting ready to record his responses and her impressions.

"The opposite of 'bad,' whatever the definition of that may be," he replied quickly, glancing almost absently at the notepad she had. "I suppose your next question is going to be what makes something good or bad…"

That made her sit back in the chair. He was right. Of course it was a logical follow-up to her previous question. "I don't think there really _is_ such a thing as good or bad. Actions, objects, people are what they are. One man's wrong is another man's right and vice versa. What may be considered wrong in one context might be considered right in another."

"So it's all relative," she said to sum up his opinion. He shook his head. Intrigued, she lowered the notepad and her paper, leaning towards him to better capture his words and expressions.

"No, it's all irrelevant." The Joker tilted his head and stared up at the ceiling thoughtfully. "I think that's what really frightens people about me. I don't care. Why should I? I am who I am and that means I am going to do what I am going to do." He watched her just as intently as she was watching him.

He wasn't insane Harleen decided. His reality was the same as everyone else's, he didn't suffer from delusions or paranoia. _But if he's not "insane" what is he? _she mused. That was something she was just going to have to find out. And she was becoming more certain the finding out would be just as exciting as what was found.


End file.
